


catch you, darling

by andnowforyaya



Series: the one where daejae are ex-spies and i wanted to write domestic daejae [2]
Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Ableism, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fingering, Guilt, M/M, Physical Therapy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, after effects of torture, body autonomy, mostly robot legs, sort of, they mention body modification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always a little funny, how consciousness is this thing that happens to your brain so swiftly. Youngjae wonders, often, what it is that switches awareness from off to on, what brings sleep to an end as thoughts begin to form, jumbled at first and gaining traction.</p><p>Lately, consciousness has been the gentle tug of Daehyun's fingers in his hair, his nose pressed against the nape of Youngjae's neck, the way he slings a heavy arm over Youngjae's chest and pulls him closer, mumbling nonsense.</p><p>Today, it is Mato, their French bulldog of two years, whining at the foot of their bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	catch you, darling

**Author's Note:**

> I totally didn't write Triage in order to justify writing daejae's domestic slice-of-life snapshots that follow that have no plot. Nope. Totally.
> 
> Not beta'd and all mistakes and weird things are mine.

It's always a little funny, how consciousness is this thing that happens to your brain so swiftly. Youngjae wonders, often, what it is that switches awareness from off to on, what brings sleep to an end as thoughts begin to form, jumbled at first and gaining traction.

Lately, consciousness has been the gentle tug of Daehyun's fingers in his hair, his nose pressed against the nape of Youngjae's neck, the way he slings a heavy arm over Youngjae's chest and pulls him closer, mumbling nonsense.

Today, it is Mato, their French bulldog of two years, whining at the foot of their bed.

Daehyun shifts next to him, burrowing his face into the crook of Youngjae's neck, soft and warm, his breath a whisper across his skin.

"Mato wants to be let out," Daehyun mumbles, sleepy, his voice rough.

Rain patters against the glass of their windows, white noise in the dim gray light of morning, and the air of their bedroom is chilled. Youngjae's feet have slipped out from under the covers sometime in the middle of the night, and he draws them under again, turning to curl against Daehyun, locking his ankles around Daehyun's calves.

Daehyun twitches, annoyed when Youngjae's freezing feet touch him.

"It's your turn," Youngjae mutters.

Daehyun presses his lips to the spot under Youngjae's throat - an open, dry kiss. "My knee..." he says.

Youngjae encourages the kiss to deepen, lifting his chin so that Daehyun has better access, and hums in approval when Daehyun’s tongue swipes over his skin.

“You weren't complaining about it last night,” Youngjae says, smirking. He shifts onto his side so he can cradle Daehyun’s face in his hands, thumb running absently over the small silver scar down his right cheek, drawing close so that he can leave kisses over Daehyun’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose, his lips.

“Well,” Daehyun says, in between kisses. “Now I’m really worn out.”

His skin is warm and dry and they are naked under the covers. Youngjae drags his feet up along the muscle of Daehyun’s legs and back down again, before letting one hand roam the slope of Daehyun’s side to rest on the meat of his ass. He squeezes, and Daehyun huffs out laughter.

“That’s funny,” Youngjae quips. “I remember that I was doing most of the work.”

Daehyun whines, ducking his face against Youngjae’s chest, probably to hide a grin. “Jae, you know how the rain makes it worse.”

“You're not allowed to use that excuse now that we have an elevator in the building, remember? We agreed on this when we moved in.”

“Well, I’m using a freebie.”

“Nope. You’ve already used one this week.”

At the foot of the bed, Mato barks, a high-pitched yelp, and he hears her nails scrabbling against the hardwood floors.

They’d moved into the new apartment when they got her, needing the space (not really) and the convenience of a building with an elevator. Daehyun really rocks the cane, now that he’s got the hang of it, but that doesn’t mean stairs aren’t still a bitch to handle.

The Agency re-assigned them both after the Hong Kong Incident - as they are calling it; Youngjae for a flag on his psych-eval and Daehyun for more obvious reasons.

Office work isn’t bad, really. It keeps them both busy but ends on the weekends, and gives them time to rediscover who they were before joining the shadowy folds of the organization.

“C’mon, Youngjae,” Daehyun whines again. “I'll owe you, okay? I really don't want to get up and she's going to piss herself.”

“Fine,” Youngjae exhales. “Fine.”

But he doesn’t move, can’t take himself away from the safe cocoon of Daehyun’s body and the blankets, not when outside it is cold and wet.

Daehyun slides away from him and then his hands are pushing against Youngjae’s chest, forcing him off the mattress.

Youngjae startles, surprised, catching himself on his feet before he falls, fondly exasperated. “So unnecessary.”

“You were taking too long,” Daehyun grumbles, dark hair fanned around his face as he lies prone in bed. “Let’s take a bath, later.”

“It really hurts, huh,” Youngjae says, brow furrowing. Daehyun offers jokes about his knee at his own expense, lingering pride making it difficult for him to outright complain about it if it’s really bothering him, so Youngjae has learned to read him beyond the words he says. “How much?”

“It’s like a six. It’s not horrible. It’s just the rain.”

A six is a dull, throbbing ache that is a reminder of the injury that was once there, flaring if he moves wrong or too quickly. He’d once likened it to scalding his hand under hot water and then keeping it there, until it numbs.

"It's not just the rain," Youngjae says gently. "It's been bothering you more than usual."

"It's fine," Daehyun says again, turning his face to the other direction, his bare shoulders dark against the white covers.

"Maybe we should make an appointment--"

"Youngjae," Daehyun snaps.

Mato dashes to Youngjae's feet, heedless, excitement at the prospect of someone finally taking her out. She bounds around Youngjae with renewed energy, and Youngjae drops what he was trying to say, shuffling around to look for a pair of briefs and sweats to shrug on while tripping over the yammering dog running into his ankles.

It's a point of contention between them, one that might someday coalesce into broken plates and slammed doors, a night on the couch. But right now it is a scab they will pick at; Youngjae just wants Daehyun to be comfortable, and Daehyun just wants everyone to forget he is usually not.

“She likes you more,” Youngjae says instead, reaching down to heft Mato’s growing bulk into his arms once he is dressed. She’s getting heavy, he thinks. Putting on weight because Daehyun slips her pieces of meat from his plate when he thinks Youngjae isn’t looking.

“That’s because I work from home more,” Daehyun says. “And you’re like the absent daddy. Now, take her for her walk, please.”

.

As soon as he opens the door back into their apartment, water dripping from his closed umbrella, Mato is rushing through the entrance, drawn in by the smell of something cooking on the stove. She yelps and drags Youngjae in with her, as he tries to kick off his shoes to keep pace so she doesn’t end up choking herself on her leash.

He is greeted by Daehyun standing crooked in the kitchen, hip cocked to one side, in a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweats that sling low on his waist; while Mato has been growing plump, Daehyun has been slimming down, bulk sliding from his figure gradually as the muscle he’d worked up over the years smooths over. He swims, now, and says his appetite has changed.

Daehyun scoops at the sausage he’s frying in the pan with a spatula while Mato sits at his feet, tongue lolling.

Youngjae steps forward and unhooks her leash, and then allows himself to run his fingers across the narrow width of the small of Daehyun’s back, settling on the other side.

“You’re up,” he says.

“I got hungry,” Daehyun responds.

“Those better be the pork ones I got on Sunday.”

“They’re turkey,” Daehyun says with a little lift at the end, smiling. He flips the links.

“Ugh, c’mon, man.”

“Your arteries will thank me,” Daehyun says. “ _Man._ ”

Youngjae shakes his head, chuckling, and Daehyun side steps away from him to open up the cabinets, hopping a bit on his left leg to balance. He takes out some plates to place on the counter, and then hops back to the stove, nudging at Youngjae to make him get out of his way. “I got this,” he says. “Go take the plates and sit down.”

There’s toast at the table, and the fruit salad they picked up last night on the way home, and two mugs of coffee.

“What, no eggs?” Youngjae asks, grinning when he’s sitting, Mato still lingering the kitchen and waiting.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Daehyun says.

They eat with the sound of rain fading into the background, and Youngjae doesn’t comment when Daehyun cuts up one of the links and puts it on an extra plate on the floor.

.

The water makes Younjgae feel like a buoy floating above Daehyun, clinging to Daehyun's shoulders so that he doesn't drift away as Daehyun rubs a finger, slow and insistent, over his hole. The water makes it smooth, almost slick, and Youngjae shivers on his knees over Daehyun's hips in the bathtub.

Daehyun is laid out and long underneath him, propped against the sloped back of the tub and digging his teeth into Youngjae's bottom lip, hands firm around his sides.

They used to _marathon_ this sort of thing. Sex was hurried and rough and almost primal, always a threat lingering above their heads - that they'd be discovered, that Daehyun would be sent overseas with less than three hours' notice, that someone was keeping tabs.

But that was before, in the other apartment.

Just, _before_.

Daehyun likes running his palms over the globes of Youngjae's ass like this, kneading, occasionally dipping in with his fingers over Youngjae's hole, and then just kissing him, lazy and indulgent, until Youngjae is panting into his mouth, rubbing their dicks against each other as the water swirls around them.

Sometimes Youngjae will fuck him, right here in the tub, water sloshing over the sides. Sometimes he'll blow him. Sometimes he'll sit on Daehyun's dick and just grind their hips together until one of them comes first, orgasm a slow, leisurely build that leaves his skin tingling after.

Today Daehyun teases him with the pads of his fingers, and swallows the noises Youngjae makes into his own mouth, until Youngjae sits back and Daehyun suddenly hisses, hands coming up to grip the edges of the tub.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Youngjae asks immediately, because the muscles of Daehyun's stomach are tense, and he's breathing through gritted teeth. Youngjae raises himself up again, body coming up out of the water, worried.

"It's nothing," Daehyun says, shaking his head. "It's nothing. It's fine."

"It's your knee," Youngjae says grimly, climbing off of Daehyun completely and out of the tub, water dripping from his body and splashing against the tiles. He reaches for one of the towels folded on the large counter with the sink and swiftly ties it around his waist as Daehyun groans, letting his head fall back.

"It's _fine_ ," he says. "Come back in."

"It's not fine. I'm calling Dr. Krain. He needs to take a look. I knew we shouldn't have gone _rock-climbing_ last week, of all things. Jesus, what were we thinking."

Youngjae has a history of giving in, eventually, to Daehyun's demands. It had been a problem when he'd been his handler and it's still a problem now. Rock-climbing was a challenge that Daehyun said he missed, bringing the topic up occasionally over the past few months and wearing Youngjae down. Then they'd consulted Dr. Krain, found a place in Virginia, fitted a support brace around Daehyun's knee, and tackled the rockface.

Now Youngjae thinks about the damage that could have caused, the pressure Daehyun's joints would have had to take, how well Daehyun hides pain, especially if his pride is at stake.

"It's okay, Jae. Honest. We've just been really active lately and I think I need a break, or something. It's not bad."

"It's bad if I can barely touch you without hurting you." Youngjae glares, heat high on his cheeks.

Why can't Daehyun just - take care of his body? The way Youngjae wishes he'd let him? He turns away, still dripping water, feeling it run down his back and chest in rivulets, as he stalks out of the bathroom.

"Youngjae!" he hears Daehyun calling. Water splashing. "Youngjae, get back here."

He treads into their bedroom, finding his cell phone easily on the bedside table and swiping it up, dialing Dr. Krain.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun is still saying, his voice loud in the echoing tiles of their bathroom. “Youngjae, come on. It’s fine. Don’t call. It’s _fine._ ”

More water splashing. The call connects, and the assistant at the other end begins to speak, but Youngjae doesn’t hear it, because in that moment his phone is ripped out of his hand and thrown to the other side of the bed, sliding off and crashing into the floor.

Youngjae turns, nostrils flaring, until he sees the look on Daehyun’s face, his hands heavy on Youngjae’s shoulders to keep himself upright. Water makes his skin shine.

“You don’t make those appointments for me,” he says. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Youngjae’s jaw drops open, his mouth forming a circle.

He doesn’t see what the big deal is. Dr. Krain has been there for them during the past few years, and Daehyun already has monthly appointments to see him. Adding another one into the mix just to be safe seems like good practice.

“It’s just a check-up, Daehyun,” Youngjae says, voice softening. “To make sure everything is - everything is in place.”

He switches them around so that Daehyun is by the bed, and then he pushes him down, and Daehyun is dripping on the covers and naked, his skin raising gooseflesh in the chilled air.

Youngjae goes back to the bathroom to take out another towel, and then he steps in between Daehyun’s legs and places the towel over Daehyun’s head, rubbing at his shoulders, over the gnarly scar there, until the tension seeps from Daehyun and he leans forward to rest his forehead against Youngjae’s stomach.

“I know,” Daehyun mumbles. “I know - it’s just. It’s dumb but, it’s _my_ body, Youngjae.”

Youngjae pauses in the way he’s scratching with the towel behind Daehyun’s ears, drying his hair, and - oh.

It’s not dumb at all. How could Youngjae forget the weeks Daehyun had spent in the dark, stripped to nothing and toyed with, his body a tool to get him to speak. The weeks Daehyun had spent in suspended consciousness, adjusting to this loss of control, trying to disconnect, trying not to feel.

“I’m sorry,” Youngjae whispers. “I’m sorry - I didn’t think about it that way--”

“I’ll make an appointment. Just let me - I’ll do it myself--”

“You don’t have to, Daehyun. You’re right. I shouldn’t have pushed like that.”

“No,” Daehyun says, face still pressed against Youngjae’s stomach. “You were right. I should call Krain. My knee is _killing_ me. Plus, I’m running out of painkillers.”

Youngjae says nothing. He can’t. He suddenly remembers the nights he’d spent by Daehyun’s hospital bed after the Incident, praying the other man would open his eyes, guilt like a heavy weight crushing his chest. It returns, lighter now, but still there, still making it hard for him to breathe.

“It’s not your fault,” Daehyun says, and Youngjae will always be amazed by how well Daehyun knows him, to be able to pluck out his thoughts so quickly and easily. “How many times do I have to tell you.”

.

Mato is snoring on Daehyun’s chest when he opens the door. The rain has finally let up, but today the office was a hectic flurry of activity and Youngjae's exhausted. He’s glad that Daehyun had decided to work from home, though ‘work’ seems to be a loose term, as he realizes not only Mato is snoring but Daehyun as well, a throw blanket flung over his body on the couch, his laptop open on the coffee table and the television playing a football game at a low volume.

He shuts the door gently behind him, toes off his shoes, and then determinedly walks over and picks Mato up from Daehyun’s chest to put her on her cushion on the floor, where she immediately flops back over into deep sleep.

Youngjae takes her place, crawling onto the couch slowly, fitting himself against Daehyun’s side and fixing the throw to cover his waist as well.

“I called Dr. Krain,” Daehyun grumbles.

“When’s the appointment?”

“Friday,” he says, curving his arm over Youngjae.

“Thank you,” Youngjae says. “For calling him.”

“Maybe I’ll get a robotic knee out of this,” Daehyun says, snorting.

“The Agency would really like that,” Youngjae returns, slapping lightly at Daehyun’s chest. “Actually, have you seriously thought about it? They would probably support you if you wanted that. I could write something up. A proposal. For a robotic knee.”

“ _Jae_ ,” he whines. His finger comes up to press against Youngjae’s lips. “What good is a robot knee? Much rather have the whole leg, right?”

"Bionic Man," Youngjae says. "The Agency's most promising new assassin."

"God, you're so dumb."

" _You_ brought it up," Youngjae returns, jutting out his lower lip.

Daehyun says, "Sometimes I miss being out in the field, but I think I would miss this more."

Youngjae freezes, warmth blossoming from his chest and turning into heat on his cheeks, in his ears, down to his toes. "What?"

"I said, sometimes I miss being out in the field, but I--"

"I heard you the first time," Youngjae interrupts, pleased, embarrassed because he is pleased, and he hides his face in Daehyun's shirt. "Me, too," he says, as Daehyun wraps him tighter within the circle of his arms.

.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks [@DivinelyPink](https://twitter.com/divinelypink) for naming Mato :)
> 
>  
> 
> [writing](http://andnowforyaya.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)
> 
>  
> 
> ugh


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